Immolation
by Greyrabbit14
Summary: Immolation. Sacrifice by fire. Poland was the center of the Holocaust. In the beginning, he had the most Jews in Europe but after the war, he had the least. When Poland's past begins to haunt him once more, Hungary is the only one who can help him. PolHun. Rated M for blood, violence, sexual scenes, and crimes against humanity.
1. Prologue

Immolation

 **Summary: Immolation: Sacrifice by fire. Poland was the center of the Holocaust, having the most ghettos and concentration/extermination camps. In the beginning, he had the most Jews in Europe but after the war, he had the least. When Poland's past begins to haunt him once more, Hungary was the only one who could help him. PolHun. Rated M for blood, violence, sexual scenes, and crimes against humanity.**

 **This story came to me after discovering a Holocaust map while listening to Immolation from Schindler's List. I knew the invasion of Poland started the second World War and the names of most of the extermination camps in the country. That was when I realized Poland was the center of the Shoah. He's also known as the Rising Phoenix. I then looked up the definition of Immolation and this idea blossomed.**

 **Before a phoenix is reborn, they are cremated by the flames before rising from the ashes.**

 **The choir in Immolation of the Schindler's List soundtrack is in Hebrew, 'Im Khayeinu! Anu notnim Khayyim!"**

 **Translation: With our lives, we give life!**

 **I've seen many beautiful art about Poland as a resistance fighter but I haven't seen many about the Holocaust. I've only seen one on Deviantart, or two if you count a Hetalia version poster of the film Schindler's List. Most Holocaust fanfictions I've encountered were mostly about Germany or Prussia. While the Nazis did organize it, Poland was where most of these evil events took place. On a map I found online, I counted twenty cities with ghettos, eight main concentration camps, six extermination camps, and six locations where mass executions took place. But I highly doubt that this was all of them.**

 **This story is dedicated to the millions of Jews, Poles, Gypsies, Jehovah's Witnesses, and others who lost their lives to Nazi evil.**

 **Remember the Holocaust.**

 **Prologue**

I have been through countless wars, witnessed many evils, and experienced terrible pain. But from 1939 to 1945, I had seen the true evil of mankind. And for over seventy years, it has stayed with me.

On certain days, I would awaken and smell the stench of burning human flesh. I would feel my scars start to burn and occasionally reopen. I would hear the whispers of the dead, see the faces of ghosts, and nothing could divert my attention. I had no choice but to listen to over six million voices at once.

How many of them did not live? The number of my own citizens is only a small fraction of the actual amount. Even outside of the camps, many more great numbers of my citizens were slaughtered in a short period of time. We all lived inside a universe of death.

I have not spoken my second language in so long. I can barely speak it when I try. Not because I don't remember but because I would see _her_ __face whenever I thought about it. Yiddish nearly became extinct in my nation but I hear it in most of the voices and I understand them as clearly as my mother tongue.

 _She_ would appear in my mind. The way her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, her childlike face, and sorrowful smile gave her the appearance of a sad angel. I never dared to say _her_ name, for I would cry, and I wouldn't be able to stop. And _her_ family. _Her_ mother would weep bitterly and always said,

 _"Nebekh eyngl! Ir nebekh eyngl!"_ Poor boy! You poor boy!

Poor boy?

Surely she knew, yet she pities me? Does she not understand what I had done?

The first day I arrived at the most notorious of the camps, my soul had been consumed by the flames, immolated with the corpses of innocent men, women, and children.

Since that day, it all stayed with me. And they have never left. I had given up all hope of trying to let it go.

My scars remain hidden beneath my clothes and when the need arises I cover them with powder, paint, anything to conceal them and the mark that had stripped me of my identity.

 _ **A-2172**_

Nobody knew. For nearly eighty years, I've kept this buried.

Until one World Meeting, it all came flooding back and I had no one to turn to. Not until Elizabeta. The personification of Hungary.

Long before Lithuania, Hungary and I had a bond unlike any other. Since we were children and even today. She is more than a friend to me, she was the light in my darkness. My savior.

I was drowning in my past and Elizabeta pulled me to the surface. The voices were silenced but never forgotten. And they never will be.

Never.

 **I have many reasons for liking Poland and Hungary as a pairing. First, they've been friends for centuries, long before Lithuania and Austria. Second, during WWII Hungarians refused to participate in the attack on Poland and helped many Polish refugees who fled to their country. Third, Hungarians had aided the Poles during the uprising and during the Hungarian Revolution, Poles had donated blood to the Hungarians and also sent help.**

 **According to Stanisław Worcell, "Poland and Hungary are two eternal oaks. Each of them shot up a separate and distinct trunk, but their roots widely scattered in the ground are intertwined and knitted invisibly. Hence the existence and vigor of one is the condition of the other's life and health."**

 **March 23** **rd** **is Polish-Hungarian Friendship Day.**

 **In my opinion, Poland and Hungary are one of the most deeply connected nations in Europe if not the world.**


	2. September

Immolation: Chapter 1

 _"Raus! Raus!"_

 _"Schnell Laufen!"_

 _"Bewege, dich Schweines!"_

 _"Schnell laufen! Schnell laufen!"_

 _He scrambled out of the cot with the other prisoners, trying not to trip at the speed as he forced his body to run outside the barracks and line up with the others. His striped uniform hung off of him like drapery and would have likely fallen off of his body had he not been allowed to keep his belt. Stitched on the right side of his chest was a diamond shaped brand with a P in its center. His formerly medium length hair had been snipped off upon arrival a few days ago and was practically bald now._

 _"Keep your head down." He heard an inmate hiss to another. That was an unspoken rule within these fences. Never look up or make eye contact. Just do as you are told and do not stop. To ignore this rule resulted in a beating or worse._

 _A man in a uniform walked into their view. He had an expression of anger that no prisoner has ever seen him without. He had the look of a ravenous animal stalking a flock of helpless sheep. The prisoners referred to him as The Beast of Block 20. His name was Holst and he was a twenty five year old German communist. He was the kapo of their block._

 _Holst's eyes landed on him for a brief second before ordering the prisoners to run to the factory while waving his club like a madman and the guards did the same with their riding crops._

 _He and the prisoners ran, trying to get as far away from the weapons as possible and avoid the wrath of Holst and the guards. Any unfortunate prisoner who slowed down or was too close would receive a swift but hard strike with a riding crop or Holst's club._

 _"Run! Run!" Holst shrieked, striking a Jewish prisoner in the shoulder._

 _As they ran, they passed a pair of SS guards with German Shepherd dogs on tight leashes. The dogs were barking wildly and looked eager to sink their teeth into the prisoners as they ran past. Their teeth were bright yellow, possibly from the blood of another inmate that dared to disobey. Or possibly for the amusement of the dogs masters, which wasn't rare in the least._

 _Another prisoner tripped and the guards were on him instantly like a pack of wolves, beating the man mercilessly. From behind him, he heard the dogs bark more ballistically as they were let off their leashes. The man screamed and the sound of liquid spilling sealed the man's fate. That just made him run faster. They didn't stop until they reached the factory and were ordered to get to work. As they all scrambled to their stations, another inmate had finally succumbed to the conditions of the camp and collapsed. A guard stomped up to the man's body and pointed the luger at the prisoner's head._

 _He watched anxiously as another one of his citizens was about to meet his end. He braced himself for what was about to come._

 _ **BANG!**_

… **...**

Feliks shot straight up in his bed, panting and looked frantically at his surroundings. He was in his house, his bedroom, alone. There were no SS guards, kapos, or murderous dogs. It was just a dream. At least that's what Poland tried to tell himself.

Feliks checked his alarm clock. It was 1:40 am. He laid back down but didn't close his eyes. Sleep didn't seem possible after that nightmare.

 _No, not a nightmare._ He corrected himself. _Memory._

Poland tried to spare himself the pain of remembering but couldn't do it, especially during this time of the year when it all began. Echoes from his past haunted him every September since the war.

He turned on his lamp and checked the calendar. There would be a World meeting in Warsaw today and Feliks wondered how he would be able to pull himself together in front of the other nations on today of all days. Every year on this day, he wouldn't speak for an entire week. He would only listen to the silence that had possessed him so many years ago. He didn't cry, he didn't feel rage or sorrow, just numbness.

He would hear them. The whispers of the dead, crying out to him in various languages, only a few that he understood. Then, he would start to see faces. The faces of people he had known, strangers, and foreigners.

However, one of them always stood out from the rest. It was someone he could never forget even if he tried.

The face of a girl with long black tresses, childlike features, brown eyes, and sad smile.

Poland never dared to say or even _think_ any of their names. Especially _hers._

Because if he did, then he would break down completely.

…...

Hours later, Poland found himself in a World Conference meeting within one of Warsaw's finest hotels and once again, the nations were arguing about the most ridiculous topics. Normally, Feliks would join in on the arguing but not today. He didn't even speak. He made no sound at all. He just stared off into space with a blank expression. For the past hour, nobody had noticed him.

"Poland!" Germany shouted, causing the Eastern European to flinch and he noticed everyone staring at him.

"Like, yeah?" He tried to look carefree but inwardly cursed at how emotionless his tone was and his eyes didn't match his expression. This made many nations bewildered at the Pole's uncharacteristically jaded attitude.

Germany looked confused but kept his expression stern. "Pay attention. Zhis is important."

Poland only nodded and tried to pay attention to the other nations as they gave their presentations but throughout the entire time, he didn't see them. Various shapes crossed his eyes in blurry images every time someone stood up on the podium.

When Germany announced that the meeting was over, Poland was the first to rush out the door, leaving the nations in a stunned silence. Most of them shrugged it off and started to leave but one of them had been watching Poland long before the meeting had even started.

That nation was Elizabeta Héderváry, personification of the Republic of Hungary. She had greeted Poland in the hallway before the meeting but he didn't seem to notice her. Throughout the meeting, Feliks had been in a daze with a blank expression and his catlike green eyes had lost their mischievous gleam. This had frightened Elizabeta for she had never seen her best friend like this.

"Hungary!" Austria called to her. "Aren't you coming?"

Elizabeta looked to where Feliks had disappeared then back to Austria. " _Igen_ , I am coming."

She would confront him later.

…...

"Excuse me, could you tell which room Feliks Lukasiewicz is in?" Hungary asked the receptionist.

"One moment please." The woman typed the name into her computer before turning to the Hungarian. "Mr. Lukasiewicz is in room 121 on the fourth floor."

"Thank you." Elizabeta thanked the receptionist and walked to an elevator. Once she was at the fourth floor she counted the rooms until she found her destination.

 _118...119...120...121_

Hungary knocked on the door. No response.

"Feliks?" She called while knocking a second time.

" _Odejdz!_ " A voice slurred from behind the door. " _Chce zostac sam_!"

"Feliks, it's Elizabeta." Hungary said. "Please, open the door."

There was a long pause and as Elizabeta was about to knock for a third time, she heard a shuffling noise from behind the door followed by stumbling footsteps. She didn't have time to catch herself when the door opened and her fist landed on Poland's nose.

" _Au!_ " He growled, holding his injured nose.

"Oh Feliks, I'm so sorry!" Hungary gasped. "Are you...alright?"

Poland's hair was disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were red. The smell of alcohol attacked Hungary's nose when he opened the door. He had obviously been drinking.

"Ela!" Feliks suddenly became cheerful and embraced Hungary before kissing both her cheeks. "It's good to- _Hic-_ see you! Come in!"

"...you're drunk." Was all Hungary said, her voice soft.

"No..." Feliks slurred. "Just tipsy."

But as Elizabeta entered the apartment she saw at least a dozen vodka bottles on the table. Poland was not just tipsy. After inspecting a bottle, Hungary wondered how Poland wasn't passed out right now. Just as he was about to take another swig, Elizabeta snatched the bottle from him.

"I think you've had enough." She stated.

" _Hic..._ no, I need it." Poland whimpered, trying to reach for the bottle but ended up collapsing onto the floor. "I can still- _Hic-_ hear them. I don't want to hear them anymore."

"Hear what?" Hungary asked, confused. When he didn't answer, Elizabeta noticed that Feliks had passed out.

Sighing, Hungary slid Poland's arm over her shoulder and lifted him up by his waist. Not without great difficulty. Feliks was heavier than he looked.

She helped him get to his bed and removed his shoes before pulling the covers over his body. Feliks mumbled something incoherently but remained unconscious. Elizabeta brushed his golden hair out of his face and made sure he slept on his side before going to find a trash bin or bucket to put beside the bed. The housekeepers were likely not going to be happy about cleaning up any vomit in the morning.

Hungary then began collecting the empty bottles when something else on the table caught her eye. It looked like a photograph. Curious, Elizabeta picked it up to further examine it.

It was an old black and white photo of a family of four. A middle aged woman stood beside her husband, who looked to be nearing his fifties, and behind her two children. In front of the woman was a small boy. Possibly not yet ten years old. And next to the boy was a girl who appeared to be his older sister. The girl had a beautiful face with doe-like eyes, dark hair, and a charming smile. Very much like her mother.

Hungary turned the photo to look at the back for a date or clue about who these people are and how they were connected to Feliks.

 _8 Lipca, 1939_

Beneath the date was in different handwriting and Hungary recognized it as Poland's.

 _Rodzina Konick_

 _Aviv, Eidel, Liora, Eshcol_

More questions filled Elizabeta's mind. Who were these people? From their physical appearances and names, they were obviously Jewish. Did Feliks know them? Is that why he has a picture of them?

An unsettling feeling began to well up in the pit of her stomach. _Were they-_

A knocking on the door snapped Elizabeta out of her train of thought. She placed the photo back on the table and hurried to the door. She opened it to see a concerned looking Lithuania on the other side.

"Miss Hungary?" He questioned, surprised to see her in his friend's room.

"You're here to see Poland?" It was more of a statement than a question. Hungary gave Lithuania an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lithuania but Poland is asleep right now. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow?"

Toris looked even more confused but accepted nevertheless. "Alright. I-I'll come back tomorrow after the meeting. Is Poland okay?"

Elizabeta paused before answering. Should she tell him that Feliks was passed out drunk? But she immediately rejected the idea. Poland could get into trouble for this and from what she had observed earlier today, Germany's yelling and lectures wouldn't help him.

"He's not feeling very well." She replied. Not technically a lie.

At Lithuania's worried look she immediately reassured him. "But I'm sure he'll be better by tomorrow. I'm going to look after him for the night. If something happens, I'll let you be the first to know."

Toris looked slightly relieved. "Thank you, Miss Hungary. I'll be seeing you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." With that, she closed the door and sighed in relief. Hungary was not sure how the Baltic would take the news of Poland's sudden binge drinking and she especially did not want Germany knowing about this if word got out that Feliks got drunk when another meeting was going to take place in the morning.

Now, this was not the first time Elizabeta had seen Feliks drink. In fact, the two would occasionally go drinking together, especially on their holiday. But this was different. Feliks was obviously not celebrating anything nor was he the type of person to drink away his problems.

In all the centuries Hungary had known him, she had never seen Poland act the way he did today. Unaware of his surroundings, jaded behavior, and drinking. Something was obviously wrong.

But what disturbed Hungary the most was how silent he was at the meeting. Dead silent.

Not to mention the deep, eerie sadness that was radiating off of him throughout the day.

Elizabeta resumed picking up the bottles and tossing them in the garbage before going back to where Feliks was still passed out in his bed. She sat in an armchair that was near the bed and tried to stay awake for most of the night, watching over her friend. Until she eventually succumbed to sleep.

 **AN: I'm sorry if Poland or any of the characters seem OOC. But Feliks is carrying the burden of witnessing one of the worst crimes against humanity. A severe trauma is bound to change someone. There's no avoiding that. Not to mention people can act different when they are intoxicated enough, and the mood swings. Anyway, let me know how you like the story so far! Reviews are much appreciated.**

 _ **Translations:**_

 **German:**

 _ **Raus: Out**_

 _ **Schnell laufen: Run fast**_

 _ **Bewege, dich schweines: Move, you pigs!**_

 **Hungarian:**

 _ **Igen: Yes**_

 **Polish:**

 _ **Odejdz: Go away**_

 _ **Chce zostac sam: I want to be alone**_

 _ **Au: Ow!, Ouch!**_

 _ **Ela: A Polish diminutive form of the name Elizabeth.**_

 _ **8 Lipca: July 8**_ _ **th**_

 _ **Rodzina Konick: Konick family**_


	3. Morning After

Immolation: Chapter 2

Elizabeta woke up to the sound of a loud thud, followed by a groan. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes as she felt around for the lamp. Once she turned the light on she could see the source of the noise.

Feliks had fallen out of bed. He hissed and squinted his eyes at the light once he sat up. " _Cholera!_ Turn that fucking light off!"

Elizabeta flinched at his tone but stood up and helped him sit on the bed. He was drenched in sweat and his clothes were sticking to his skin. His eyes were glazed and there was still color on his cheeks. But he wasn't slurring anymore.

"I'm sorry but I need to see if I am to help you." She said, firmly.

"E-Ela?!" Feliks stammered. "You're still-I-I didn't mean to...I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She assured, gently. "It's okay."

She moved her hands to his collar to unbutton his shirt. Then, as if finally processing what she was doing, Feliks's hands clasped around hers.

" _Nie!_ What are you doing?!" He yelped, stopping Elizabeta from undoing the third button.

"Your clothes are soaked, I need to get them off." Hungary argued, trying to remove his hands but Poland wouldn't budge. Even in his drunken state.

"Stop it! I can do it myself." Feliks shoved Elizabeta's hands away and gazed around the room. "Where are my clothes?"

Elizabeta went to Feliks's suitcase and searched for something comfortable for him to wear.

"Here." She handed him a T-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms.

Feliks muttered his thanks and managed to get to the bathroom without stumbling. Once he shut the door, Elizabeta checked her watch. 3:25 am. Not yet dawn. She rubbed at her eyes and tried to stay alert incase Feliks needed help, hoping he wouldn't collapse again. Feliks also won't be able to sit through a meeting after pounding himself with so much alcohol.

Elizabeta began dialing Lithuania's number. She would call Germany after informing Feliks's friend.

…...

After closing the bathroom door, Feliks began to peel off his shirt and checked himself in the mirror.

His hair was a tangled mess, much like a haystack, and dark circles were visible under his eyes. There was a reason he did not want Elizabeta to see him without a shirt. His gaze wandered to the reflection of his figure.

His chest had a long scar that went from below his right shoulder to the left side of his ribcage. This had been a punishment for making eye contact with a guard who had retaliated with his bayonet. Infection had set in days later and the poor conditions Feliks had lived in only made it worse.

On his left arm were the numbers that had branded him with his new identity. After receiving the tattoo, he was no longer Poland or Feliks Lukasiewicz...He became _**A-2172.**_

Feliks also never wanted anybody to see his back, for it was littered in scars. The kapo had whipped him until he could no longer scream from the pain. All because he had tried to help another inmate.

 _"Ein!"_

 _Crack_

 _"Zwei!"_

 _Crack_

 _"Drei!"_

 _Crack_

Feliks quickly turned on the sink and splashed his face with cold water. His heart was beating frantically against his chest and his back started to burn at each lash in his memory. A wave of nausea came over him. Feliks flung himself in front of the toilet and started vomiting. All the alcohol he had consumed earlier was making a comeback on his stomach.

Once he finished retching, he opened one of the drawers and found nude colored powder. He began to rub it over the tattoo until it was no longer visible.

Feliks tried to steady his breathing and collect himself before exiting the bathroom.

Elizabeta was still there, sitting in the armchair where she had slept for the past five or so hours. Her wide green eyes shone with concern.

Feliks felt a stab of guilt for having his closest friend see him like this. No one was supposed to know about his yearly 'problem' as he often called it.

Poland said nothing as he sat down on the bed and gazed at his feet for a long time. Unable to make eye contact.

"...I'm sorry." He said, after a long moment of silence. Elizabeta stood up and seated herself next to Feliks on the bed.

"It's okay." She said, rubbing his back in soothing circles. Hungary then decided to make a bold move. "Do you want to tell me why you decided to drink so much?"

Poland suddenly turned green. "Ela...I'm going to..."

Elizabeta immediately withdrew her hand, reached for the trash bin and held it beneath him. Feliks grabbed the bin and was sick. He retched and heaved. Hungary stayed beside him and rubbed his back, whispering words of comfort.

"It's alright...you're alright. Let it out." She soothed. After ten minutes, Feliks stopped throwing up and Elizabeta helped him lay on the bed. She set the bin back down in case he would need it again and pulled the covers up to Poland's chest.

She moved to get up but was stopped when Feliks grabbed her wrist.

"D-don't go...lay down with me...please." He pleaded, softly.

Elizabeta nodded and removed her shoes before getting under the covers next to him. Feliks then laid his head against her shoulder and wrapped his arm around her frame.

"You're warm..." He mumbled, sleepily. "I can't hear them anymore."

Poland closed his eyes before Hungary could ask what that meant. She inwardly sighed.

 _He's going to feel like szar later._ She thought before closing her eyes.

…...

The next morning...

Poland woke up with a pounding headache. He was tired, his body felt like it was carrying 1000 tons, and he really needed a shower. He groaned and pushed his face deeper into his pillow.

A startled gasp made him shoot upwards immediately but he instantly regretted it for the pain in his head became ten times worse. It felt as though a knife was being shoved into his temple. He then looked at what he had been laying on and his face felt like it was on fire. He had been laying on Hungary's chest!

Elizabeta's cheeks were a little pink but she made no remark nor did she slap him.

"Good morning, Feliks." She greeted, calmly. Poland's face was red as one of Spain's tomatoes, but he had a pained expression and was clutching at his head.

" _Jezus!_ " He cursed, holding his throbbing temple. "Ela...what..."

Suddenly it all came flooding back. He got drunk, Elizabeta came to check on him, he passed out, fell out of bed, and was sick...Hungary had taken care of him while he was intoxicated.

"How do you feel?" Elizabeta asked.

Feliks groaned, falling back onto the bed. "Like crap."

She nodded. "I'll get you something for the pain."

She got up and went to the bathroom while Feliks tried to piece together what happened the night before.

Hungary came back with a glass of water and two pills. Poland swallowed the pills and gulped down the water.

"Thanks." He handed the glass back to her and checked the time. The color drained from his face and he let out a loud ' _Cholera!_ '. The meeting was in ten minutes. He started digging through his suitcase but Elizabeta stopped him.

"Don't worry about the meeting, I called Germany while you were changing last night." She said. "I told him and Lithuania you were sick and won't be able to attend."

Feliks visibly relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. At least he won't have to be facing Germany's wrath.

"Feliks," Elizabeta started, looking a little unsure of what she was about to say. "May I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

He should have been prepared for her question. "Why did you drink so much last night?"

When Feliks didn't respond, she continued. "I've known you for centuries Feliks, and you've never been one to start drinking out of the blue. Not to mention you've been acting strange yesterday. You just weren't yourself."

Hungary's tone became soft. "Are you alright?"

Poland said nothing. And the silence was back. The eerie silence that loomed over him like a dark cloud from yesterday. Feliks's eyes had become blank and looked like they were in another world.

"...it doesn't matter." He eventually replied, his voice holding no emotion. "It's in the past."

"But-"

"I think you should go." Feliks cut her off, his tone became cold.

Elizabeta suddenly became angry.

"Are you kidding me?" She snapped. "I spent all night taking care of your drunken arse and you won't even tell me why you decided to get yourself wasted in the first place?!"

She then took a breath to calm herself and continued firmly. "You owe me this much. Feliks...please. I only wish to help you. I have never seen you act this way, and it scares me. I only want to understand why you are doing this."

Her expression then became pained. "You are my best friend. You've always been loyal to me and helped me whenever I needed it. Please, talk to me...I promise not to tell anyone."

Feliks didn't meet her gaze. He had always trusted Hungary, he still did. The two never hide anything from the other...until now. Elizabeta was also stubborn. When she wanted something, she'll stop at nothing to get it. This was a trait the two had in common.

Poland had never told anyone, having kept this buried for nearly eighty years. He feared that if his secret ever got out, he would be treated differently by the other countries. He would be seen as weak, and they wouldn't be wrong.

Also, how does one even explain what had happened all those years ago when Feliks himself still couldn't grasp its meaning?

Feliks got up and went to the telephone in the dining area. He called room service and spoke in Polish.

" _Proszę przynieść całą butelkę Spirytusa i talerz śniadaniowy do pokoju 121. Dziękuję_."

Elizabeta was not fluent in Poland's language but she understood enough to know what he had requested and she was less than pleased.

"Feliks..." She warned.

"I don't want to talk about this while sober!" He growled before his tone became deadpanned again. "I can't."

Poland went to his suitcase and rummaged through his things to find a clean set of clothes before heading to the bathroom.

Seconds later, Hungary heard the shower running. She sat herself back in the armchair and thought about what Poland had said. What could be so terrible that he felt that there was no way he could talk about what was bothering him while sober? He had ordered the same drink that Elizabeta had found littered on his table last night. Spirytus vodka. One of the strongest liquors in the world.

The sound of running water soon came to a halt and Feliks came out two minutes later, dressed in a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. He looked slightly more content to be clean and Elizabeta caught a faint glimpse of the friend she knew.

A knock at the door snapped her out of her musings.

" _O_ _bsługa hotelowa_."

Feliks opened the door and told the attendant to put his order on the table. Once he left, Poland gestured for Hungary to join him at the table.

She sat next to Feliks and he pushed the plate of food towards her.

"It's for you." He stated at her confused expression.

Elizabeta sighed in exasperation. "Did you even eat last night?"

"I couldn't." He replied, opening the bottle but Elizabeta stopped him before he could take a swig.

"I'm not letting you drink until you eat something." She insisted, giving him a look that _dared_ him to argue. With some coaxing, she managed to get Feliks to take a few bites of scrambled eggs before he refused anymore and told her to finish the plate.

As she ate, Elizabeta watched him drink. The alcohol was already taking effect. Feliks's cheeks were pink and his eyes were starting to glaze. After finishing her meal, Hungary pushed the plate away and turned her full attention to Poland.

"Will you tell me what's bothering you now, Feliks?" She asked.

Poland took another long swig before answering. "Do you know what yesterday was?"

Elizabeta was taken aback by the question but replied. "September 1st...but what does that have to do with...Oh!" Suddenly she remembered. Yesterday was the anniversary of Germany's invasion of Poland.

Feliks took another sip. "Tak...but that was only the beginning...after I was captured by Germany, he locked me up and kept me there for months. He tortured me...sometimes his soldiers would come into my cell at night and...beat me."

Hungary felt great sympathy for him. She knew Poland had suffered greatly during the war and Elizabeta would forever regret allying herself with Germany during the time, but that was only second to the worst decision she ever made.

Her greatest regret was the Arrow Cross Party. In such a short period of time, ten to fifteen thousand people had been murdered. She may have refused to participate in Germany's attack on Poland, but deep down, Hungary knew that she was no better than Germany.

Something at the end of the table suddenly caught her eye. She reached over and showed it to her friend.

"Feliks, who are these people?" Elizabeta asked, holding up the picture of the family. As if waking up from a deep sleep, Poland's eyes widened and he snatched the photo out of her hands.

"D-Did I leave this out last night?" He asked. At Hungary's nod, he cursed and shoved the photo into his pocket.

"...They were my neighbors, before the war." Feliks said after taking a long swig. His glazed eyes then held unshed tears. "They were the Konicks...I was very fond of them...especially their daughter."

He continued. "But...I should probably start from the beginning."

Feliks sighed.

"I first met the Konicks during the summer before the attack..."

 **AN: Sorry about the cliffhanger. The start of when it all began will be shown in the next chapter.**

 **History notes:**

 **The Arrow Cross Party was a national socialist party led by Ferenc** **Szálasi that ruled Hungary from October 15** **th** **, 1944 to March 28** **th** **, 1945. It was formed in 1935 and dissolved in April of 1945. In a short period of time during its rule, the Arrow Cross Party was responsible for the deaths of ten to fifteen thousand civilians. Most of them were Jews, Gypsies, and Serbs. 80,000 people were also deported to various concentration camps from Hungary during this time.**

 _ **Translations:**_

 **Polish:**

 _ **Cholera: Damn it!; Damnation!**_

 _ **Nie: No**_

 _ **Jezus: Jesus!**_

 _ **Proszę przynieść całą butelkę Spirytusa i talerz śniadaniowy do pokoju 121. Dziękuję**_ **.:** _ **Please bring a whole bottle of Spirytus and a breakfast plate to room 121. Thank you.**_

 _ **O**_ _ **bsługa hotelowa: Room service**_

 _ **Tak: Yes**_

 **Hungarian:**

 _ **Szar: Shit**_

 **Reviews are much appreciated! I also apologize if my Polish is wrong, hope you still enjoy this story!**


	4. The Konicks and Captivity

Immolation: Chapter 3

 _ **June 11**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 1939**_

 _ **Warsaw, Poland**_

 _Feliks rubbed his forehead as he exited the building where a meeting with his current boss had taken place. It had been a rather long day for him. The meeting had left him mentally exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to go back to his house and cook a hot meal before going to sleep._

 _As he neared his house, Feliks saw a man trying to lift a heavy load of boxes into another building. The man had to be nearing his fifties and he seemed to be in pain from the way his facial expression was scrunched up._

 _Taking pity on the man, Feliks decided to offer some assistance._

 _"Good afternoon, Sir." He greeted. "Do you need some help?"_

 _The man set down the boxes in exhaustion but sent a grateful look to Feliks._

 _"I would deeply appreciate it, thank you." He said, picking up two of the smaller boxes and Feliks gathered the larger ones with ease. As they neared the door to the man's house, Feliks could hear voices inside._

 _The man's house was small but had a comfortable atmosphere. A wonderful smell was coming from the kitchen and Feliks heard two children laughing._

 _"Right this way." The man said, gesturing towards the kitchen. When they entered, a middle aged woman was setting the table and a small boy was playing with an older girl a few feet away._

 _"Liora, help me set the table!" The woman called in Yiddish before scolding the boy who started reaching for a dinner roll. "Eshcol! Wait until everyone is at the table."_

 _"Yes, Mamishu." The boy, Eshcol, mumbled guiltily. He then perked up when he noticed his father enter. "Papa!"_

 _"Hello, my son." The man greeted as he set the boxes on the stairs before turning back to Feliks. "Could you put those over there by the clock?"_

 _"Of course." He replied, doing as the man had asked. He then stood before the man to introduce himself. "I'm Feliks Lukasiewicz, sir."_

 _"Pleased to meet you, young man. My name is Aviv Konick." The man introduced himself and shook Feliks's hand. "Thank you so much for your help. I have terrible back pains."_

 _"It was no problem, Mr. Konick." Feliks assured him._

 _"Please, allow me to introduce my family." Mr. Konick said and gestured to the boy. "My son, Eshcol. Eshcol, this is Feliks."_

 _The boy looked up with a sudden bashfulness. "Pleased to meet you, Mister."_

 _"Hello, Eshcol." Feliks greeted with a warm smile. Mr. Konick's wife then entered the hallway._

 _"Aviv, dinner is on the table..." She trailed off when she noticed the stranger standing with her husband and son._

 _"I'm sorry." She apologized in Polish. "Did I interrupt?"_

 _They immediately assured her that she did no such thing and the woman introduced herself as Eidel. She then called for her daughter._

 _"Liora! Kum da!"_

 _A black haired girl then walked into the hallway and Feliks was instantly captivated by her beautiful dark eyes. She had a round, angelic face and light olive toned skin. She appeared to be on the verge of entering her teenage years._

 _"And this is my daughter, Liora." Mr. Konick gestured to the girl, who held out her hand to their guest._

 _"How do you do?" She greeted, politely._

 _Feliks smiled at her as he shook Liora's hand. "I am well, thank you."_

…...

"...then Eidel offered to have me stay for dinner." Feliks recalled, staring at the bottle in his hand, his eyes reflecting the memory with a sad fondness. "I didn't want to be a bother...but Mr. Konick insisted, and so I agreed. Eidel's _Łosoś_ was heavenly."

Elizabeta listened intently. From the way Feliks spoke of the Konicks, he knew them well and became attached to them. Feliks downed the last of the vodka and slammed the bottle onto the table.

"We often switched between Polish and Yiddish during our conversations." He said. "I haven't spoken Yiddish since..."

He trailed off and he had that look in his eyes again.

"Since..." Elizabeta pressed, gently.

"...1944." He finally replied. There was a long pause.

"Liora liked to sing while doing her chores in the morning." Feliks continued after a minute of silence. "Around 9:00 I would hear her singing from her bedroom window and she was always sitting there sewing. I would just stay by my window and listen. She caught me a few times, then she would smile and wave...Oyfn Pripetshik was her favorite song."

Feliks closed his eyes and rested his head in his arms on the table. "I wish you could've heard her voice, Ela. She sounded like an angel that came straight from the heavens."

Elizabeta gave a slight smile. "Liora sounds like a lovely girl."

"...she was." Feliks's tone became mournful and Hungary couldn't see, but he was trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill.

 _Don't cry...don't cry, you fool!_ He mentally berated himself. _Keep it together!_

Taking a deep breath, Feliks raised his head and spoke again. His voice was dark with haunted memory.

"Then, the day of the invasion had come...my soldiers and I tried, but those damn _Niemców_ had the superior artillery...we tried to evacuate as many civilians as we could. "

Poland's hands were fisted and he bore an expression of self-hatred as he remembered how quickly his country had been taken over so easily by the Nazis. While he's forgiven Germany today and knew that Ludwig was more than regretful of what he and his country had done, a white hot rage would blossom throughout Poland's entire being whenever he remembered when they were enemies. Germany had caused him all this pain, enslaved his people, and over five million of his citizens had perished during the occupation.

Two weeks after the Germans attacked, the Soviet Union also invaded Poland and Feliks's country was trapped between two relentless enemies.

Feliks's hands started to tremble, before he stood and went to the phone.

"Feliks..." Elizabeta started to protest.

"Ela, _please._ Don't say it." He growled, his patience was clearly wearing thin and his eyes, though glazed, were wide with desperation.

"Fine, but don't order the same drink." Hungary relented. "Get something lighter."

Poland looked reluctant but gave a nod and did just that. As he waited, Feliks paced around the room and Elizabeta watched anxiously, unsure of what to do. She didn't know which was more frightening, seeing Feliks try to drink himself into oblivion, or walking around like an empty shell as if devoid of all life and feeling. None of these came even close to Feliks when he was angry or upset. He would often laugh it off or just never let it affect him. While it was difficult to talk about war for all the countries, Poland was clearly hiding something more than memories on the front lines. The way he would try to drink himself into a senseless fool just so he could talk about it was clear evidence that whatever he experienced had more effect on him than a battlefield.

A few minutes later, a hotel attendant had arrived with the drink Feliks had requested. It was beer, thankfully. Although Elizabeta was still concerned from the amount of alcohol he had consumed beforehand. She really didn't feel like dealing with a drunk man while it was still morning. Not to mention Lithuania would be coming to visit later.

"I managed to stay in hiding for a while after the surrender." Feliks said, after taking a sip from the bottle. "But they found me weeks later and took me in for 'questioning'."

…...

 _ **October 7**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 1939**_

 _ **German base, outside Warsaw**_

 _ **Pain exploded through his skull as he was tossed onto the floor. Poland was littered with cuts and bruises. Various dark spots were growing on his green uniform, blackening it with blood, and his entire body was screaming with agony from the handling of the Gestapo. He grunted when he felt a boot dig into his back and looked up at the man in black defiantly.**_

 _ **Icy blue eyes bore into his green ones, shining like cold steel in what little light there was in the tiny cell. Germany's gaze held the same hatred as the captive currently being crushed under his boot, but also seemed to be savoring the moment.**_

 _ **"You should have known better than to hide, Polen." Germany said, adding pressure to Poland's back. He then leaned down until his face was inches away from Feliks. "It will only make things worse for yourself."**_

 _ **Poland spat blood in the German's face. Germany didn't even flinch and calmly wiped the red stain off his cheek before slamming his fist into Poland's already bruised cheek.**_

…...

"...I don't know exactly how long I was there for." Feliks said before finishing the last of his drink. "About six months maybe? I was captured in October of 1939 and it was early spring when I got out. There was never one day without a beating and sometimes they would 'forget' to bring me food."

"What was the longest amount of time you went without eating during your capture?" Elizabeta asked, thinking it might have been a few days at least but Poland's answer made her gasp in horror.

"Two weeks." He said, flatly. He brought the bottle to his lips before realizing it was empty and tossed it into a trash bin. "I had to live off rain and melted snow that got through a crack in the ceiling. When they did feed me, it was always scraps from the kitchen or whatever the Germans didn't finish during their mealtimes."

"But one time, someone snuck into my cell. I think it was a German. I was handcuffed to a hook in the ceiling and blindfolded from a torture session..."

…...

 _ **His hands were cuffed above his head and his feet were barely touching the ground. A blindfold was placed over his eyes before the session began. Nearly three hours of beatings had left his body in agony but nothing was more painful than being able to hear and feel but not see what the Germans were doing. This was the first time they had added psychological torture and Feliks was certain that its purpose was to increase his pain and it damn well worked. He tried not to give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream.**_

 _ **When the Germans were not using their fists or feet, they would turn to beating instruments or whipping. They would send hard blows all over his body, especially to the locations of vital organs. The Germans had kicked him in the stomach, lower back, and groin. They beat him with clubs on his back and his front with their fists.**_

 _ **Feliks tried to keep his teeth from chattering as cold air hit him when the door to his cell was opened and could hear someone walk in. The Germans had discarded his shirt before they cuffed him to the ceiling and the temperature in the room had to be less than ten degrees Celsius.**_

 _ **The footsteps stopped when they were right next to him. Feliks could hear what sounded like a hand rummaging through a jacket and waited for another blow. It never came. Instead, he felt something being pressed against his lips and got a whiff of a very familiar smell.**_

 _ **"Fressen." The owner of the footsteps whispered very softly. "Es ist brot."**_

 _ **Feliks was fluent in eight languages, German being one of them, and understood what the man had said but he didn't comply. Surely this was a trick. He had gone three days without food and this was probably their way of taunting him. But the hollow pain in his stomach had increased the moment he smelled the bread and made his hunger known with a growl.**_

 _ **Reluctantly, Poland took a bite out of the bread and waited for the German to take it away, laughing or taunt him. He didn't. The man kept it within reach of Feliks's mouth until he finished.**_

 _ **Once Feliks had devoured the small loaf, he suddenly felt the German's breath on his ear before whispering.**_

 _ **"Sprechen sie nie davon oder wir werden beide leiden."**_

 _ **Then, he heard the man walk out of the cell and quietly closed the door. But what caught Poland off guard was how the voice suddenly sounded familiar.**_

… _ **...**_

"A German helped you?" Hungary asked in bewilderment. Poland nodded.

"That wasn't the only time he helped me either." He continued. "Every couple weeks he would sneak into my cell when he knew I wouldn't be able to see him and sometimes I would find bread by my door. I knew it was him because the other Germans would only give me small crusts and whatever remained from their meals. I wanted to know who he was but when he came into my cell again-"

A knock on the door cut Feliks off and Elizabeta stood up.

"That might be Lithuania, I'll answer it." She said before walking towards the door.

"Lithuania?" He wondered out loud. He didn't recall Hungary mentioning that the Baltic nation would be coming to visit. He watched as Hungary opened the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Lithuania." Elizabeta greeted.

"Hello, Miss Hungary. Is Poland alright?" Lithuania asked, obviously concerned.

"Yes, he is doing fine." She confirmed. "But he's still not feeling well. He was nauseous this morning."

"Oh, how terrible!" Then Toris asked what Feliks hoped he wouldn't hear him say.

"May I see him?"

Hungary hesitated and turned to look at Poland. Feliks instantly shook his head and mouthed 'No', almost in a frantic matter. Getting the hint, she gave Lithuania a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry but Poland is not up to a visit right now."

Toris sighed. "I understand."

He then handed Hungary two stacks of papers. "I took these notes for you during the meeting and Mr. Germany asked me to tell Poland that he hopes that he feels better soon."

" _Köszönöm_ , I will pass along the message." Elizabeta said, taking the papers. "How did the meeting go?"

"Same as always, unfortunately." Lithuania sighed, looking exhausted. "Nothing got done. Everyone was talking about nonsense."

Hungary let out a weak chuckle. "I shouldn't have asked. What was I expecting?"

Toris scoffed but smiled.

"I must go now, Miss Hungary. My train leaves in an hour." He said, checking his watch. "Please tell Poland I hope he feels better soon."

"Of course, Mr. Lithuania." Elizabeta promised. "Have a safe trip."

After closing the door, Hungary turned to see Poland shoving his clothes into his suitcase albeit a bit sloppily due to his intoxicated state and would occasionally stumble but didn't look to be on the verge of collapsing.

"I want to go home." He said, feeling Elizabeta's gaze on him. "You should probably pack your things too."

"Fine, but don't think that I'm letting you go alone." She said, firmly. "You're not sober enough and we still have a lot to talk about."

Hungary then left but not before warning Poland to stay where he was. He just gave her a mock salute but kept his expression blank. Once Elizabeta was out of sight, he took the photograph of the Konicks out of his pocket and stared at their content expressions before his gaze settled on their daughter. A musical echo then filled his head with a sweet, childlike voice that reminded him of church bells. The echo then started to develop into words that rang through his mind with an all too familiar tune.

 _"Oyfn pripetshik brent a fayerl, Un in shtub iz heys, Und der rebe lernt kleyne kinderlekh, Dem alef-beys... Und der rebe lernt kleyne kinderlekh, Dem alef-beys...Zet zhe kinderlekh, gedenkt zhe, tayere, Vos ir lernt do; Zogt zhe nokh mol un take nokh a mol: Komets-alef: o...Zogt zhe nokh mol un take nokh a mol: Komets-alef: o!"_

 **AN: I'm sorry this chapter took a while. Also, I got the translations from the song on Wikipedia and I apologize if they are wrong. Let me know how you like the story in your reviews or if I made a mistake somewhere. I'd really appreciate it.**

 _ **Translations:**_

 **Yiddish:**

 **Mamishu: A Yiddish version of 'Mama'. (I got this from a book, not Google Translate. Survivors Club: The True Story of a Very Young Prisoner of Auschwitz by Michael Bornstein and Debbie Bornstein Holinstat)**

 **Kum da: Come here**

 **Oyfn Pripetshik Lyrics: (On the Hearth)**

 **On the hearth, a fire burns,**

 **And in the house it is warm.**

 **And the rabbi is teaching little children,**

 **The alphabet.**

Refrain:

 **See, children, remember, dear ones,**

 **What you learn here;**

 **Repeat and repeat, yet again,**

 **Komets-alef: o!**

 **Polish:**

 **Łosoś: Salmon, often baked or boiled in a dill sauce.**

 **Niemców: Germans, Jerries**

 **German:**

 **Polen: Poland**

 **Fressen: Eat**

 **Es ist brot: It's bread**

 _ **Sprechen sie nie davon oder wir werden beide leiden: Never speak of this or we will both suffer.**_

 **Hungarian:**

 **Köszönöm: Thank you**


	5. Escape

Immolation: Chapter 4

Feliks gazed out the window of the cab on his way back to his house. He would occasionally feel Elizabeta's eyes on him before turning to look out the window on her side. The two hadn't spoken since they left the hotel and Hungary called a taxi. As they traveled through Warsaw, Feliks started having flashbacks every time they drove down a familiar street. He saw buildings that used to be where someone's house had once stood, a completely different building where people and their families once lived.

When the taxi driver suddenly took a left, they drove down a road that Poland remembered all too well. A street where some of his happiest and most painful memories took place. The neighborhood where he had lived across from the Konick family. A lavish green apartment building was now in place of where the Konick's modest white house had been, having been destroyed after the war.

As they drove by, Feliks saw himself walking up to a gray-haired man who patted him on the back and invited him into the little white house. He briefly saw the door open to reveal a middle-aged woman and two children who ran out to embrace their guest.

 _"Feliks! Feliks! Ir gekumen!"_

 _"Sholem-aleykhem Feliks."_

 _"Aleykhem sholem, Froy Konick."_

 _"Kumen Feliks, es iz tsurik do."_

 _"Ya har."_

 _"Feliks, vet ir farbindn aundz far dem shbs?"_

 _"Liora!"_

 _"W_ _porządku_ _, Froy Konick."_

 _"Feliks..._ Feliks!"

Poland nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Hungary and the taxi driver were looking at him with concern

"We're here." Elizabeta said before exiting the cab. Feliks grabbed his suitcase and prepared to get out of the car when he was stopped by the driver.

" _Wszystko w_ _porządku_?" The man asked. Feliks only gave a nod and whispered 'Tak' before reaching into his pocket once he got out of the cab. Elizabeta stopped his with a shake of her head and said that she already paid for the ride. As Poland fumbled for his keys, Hungary wondered if it would be wise to continue. Feliks looked like he needed to rest.

After unlocking the door, Feliks lead Elizabeta upstairs to a room down the hall, about five feet from his bedroom. Hungary had stayed over at Poland's house many times before but this time she felt that she needed to be here. Feliks had been silent ever since they had left the hotel. That same silence which seemed to follow him whenever he spaced out.

Poland went straight to the kitchen after unpacking and opened a cabinet where most of the liquors were kept. When Hungary came down, she was both irritated and unsurprised to see him drinking from another bottle of vodka. She didn't comment on it as she sat down across from him.

"How did you get out of the German base?" Elizabeta asked.

"...the German who fed me." Feliks kept his gaze on the table, not making eye contact. His green eyes that Elizabeta always admired were glazed like the night before. "He guided me out of the base while I was blindfolded from an interrogation earlier that day. He walked me into the forest and uncuffed my hands. He then said to me as soon as he removed the blindfold, I had to run and never look behind. So, I did."

"I wandered through the forest for twelve hours. It was night, midnight probably, and by the time I got back to Warsaw, it was dusk..."

…...

 _Poland's body ached all over. The continuous walking did little to ease the pain of his bruised figure. He had collapsed three times during his escape but forced himself to stand back up and keep going. For all he knew, the Germans could be following him at this very moment. It was without a doubt that they knew he had escaped. All because one of their own had risked his own life to get him out of that base. For what reason, Feliks didn't know._

 _However, he couldn't shrug off the feeling that there was something familiar about that German. He had always spoken in a hushed whisper, making it difficult to identify his real voice. His presence had brought neither comfort or hostility, just familiarity. Feliks's instincts told him that he knew the man but no names or faces came to his mind._

 _No words could express the relief he felt when Warsaw came into his sight. Had he not been so sore and exhausted, he would have run the remainder of the way into his beloved city. Feliks was less than ten miles away from home. However, he knew that there were Germans wandering throughout Warsaw and he mentally prayed for his people. He could feel their anguish and misery since the defeat and it was more painful than any beating he had received from the Gestapo._

 _A muffled sound came from the woods to his right and Feliks had no idea what had possessed him to do so but he followed the sound until he could make out what it was. Men were shouting. In German. Followed by the sound of a small child crying. Poland dove behind a tree and peeked around it. What he saw would haunt him for the rest of his life. A little girl, about three years of age, was standing in the middle of a field where two German soldiers were shouting at a man, and a woman. They looked to be digging a ditch. But what horrified Feliks was the fact that the family was naked._

 _One of the soldiers commanded them to stop and the woman went to her daughter, picking her up and holding her close to cover herself, protecting what remained of their dignity and sobbing nearly as much as the toddler. The child clung to her mother but her wails never ceased._

 _One of the Germans ordered the man to get his wife and daughter into the ditch. The man obeyed and the other German told him to hold his family. Once the family was huddled together, their eyes closed, but the little girl was still crying loudly._

 _Feliks watched in horror, his blood going cold, as the Germans aimed their machine guns at the vulnerable, defenseless family of three. Shots rang through the air and all was silent. The little girl's wails had been silenced before the three bodies were on the ground yet they seemed to echo throughout the forest. Poland could no longer see anything in front of him, except for the glazed blue eyes of the toddler that looked as if they were staring right at him. Then, as if coming out of a trance he turned and ran towards Warsaw._

… _..._

Hungary clasped her hand over her mouth and her eyes widened in shock at Poland's description of the family's murder. The bottle of vodka was nearly empty and Feliks was now close to being completely wasted. He had watched a child die with her parents, after being stripped of their clothing and forced to dig their own grave.

The child's wail was still going through Feliks's mind, sobs filled with terror echoed in his mind, and the drink was doing very little to block it out.

"I didn't stop running until I was on my street." Feliks continued. "Even after I was back in my house I could still hear that little girl crying. I couldn't even get to my bedroom. I ended up falling asleep on the floor."

"The day after, I got a better look at my house. The Nazis had looted my home." Poland growled. "Whatever gold or silver I had was gone, along with priceless items that had been given to me by my previous rulers. A silver cup from Kazimierz III the Great and a brooch from Queen Jadwiga were among them."

Feliks drank the remainder of the vodka before burying his face in his hands. Both Kazimierz III and Jadwiga had been two of his best rulers whom he loved dearly. While no one could ever take the place of his mother, Slavia, they had been like parental figures to Poland. Feliks had cried for over a week after the death of Jadwiga and her newborn daughter. He had never had a breakdown like that since his mother disappeared. Poland could not think of any other queen that had been as much beloved by his people.

Hungary frowned in sympathy and reached out to stroke Feliks's back but pulled away when he flinched at her touch, as if in pain. Confused, and a little hurt, she decided to keep asking questions.

"What did you do then?" She asked.

"I went to check on my neighbors, starting with the Konicks." Poland's voice suddenly became dark. "...but they were gone."

 **AN: I apologize for the delay but I hope you still enjoy reading this story. Also, I'm curious, how many of you think that there should be more PolHun fics?**

 **I also apologize for any mistakes I've made. The murder scene was inspired by a memory in Survivors Club where one of the author's relatives witnessed the murder of another family. It's not fictional, it really happened. It was horrible and broke my heart. The family had been forced to dig a ditch or something, I don't remember the exact details, after being stripped of their clothes. Then, the Nazis ordered the father to hold his wife and daughter before the Germans murdered them.**


	6. Missing

Immolation: Chapter 5

 _He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, but Poland only glared, eyes brimming with tears of rage, at the sight of his nearly empty bedroom. Clothes were littered across the floor but formalwear along with velvet and furs were nowhere in sight. His drawers and nightstand were knocked over, completely empty. The drawers once held precious artifacts that had been given to him by his previous rulers, including a brooch from Queen Jadwiga. To many it may have been a simple silver cross but to Feliks, it was a generous gift from his queen and he had always treasured it and wore it with pride. A nail in the wall above where his bed had been flipped over was the location where a painting of the Polish coat of arms had been hung with a frame made of very fine gold._

 _Downstairs, all antique décor and furniture had been confiscated. A tea set, six paintings, three vases, four statues of Polish historical figures, and the shelves had been cleared of all books. But the most valuable item he kept downstairs had been on a shelf in the dining room behind a glass case. It was a silver cup that had been given to Feliks by Kazimierz III the Great. The glass had been smashed and the cup was gone._

 _Poland's gaze turned to his window where he could see the Konick household right across from his. His anger turned into fear when he noticed Liora's window had been broken. Questions flooded through his mind as Feliks hurried downstairs and out of his house. Had the Nazis plundered the Konicks? It seemed very likely, but were they at home when it happened? Did the Germans attack them?_

 _Once he had made it to the Konick's front door, Poland knocked rapidly. No answer. He tried a second time. Still no response._

 _Worried, Feliks ran to his next neighbor's house, hoping they might be able to explain what had happened while he was away. A man named Bernard Jaskolski lived further down the street from Feliks with his family. Mr. Jaskolski was a friendly man and they had engaged in brief conversations on occasion._

 _Feliks didn't need to knock twice once he reached the Jaskolski residence. Mr. Jaskolski looked both shocked and relieved to see Feliks at his door._ _The man's eyes widened at his neighbor's appearance. Bruised face, split lip, disheveled hair, and tattered clothes. Not to mention he was very skinny and pale._

 _"Feliks?" He gasped. "Good Lord! What happened to you?!"_

 _"I...I was captured." Feliks spoke, softly. Mr. Jaskolski then ushered him into the house and lead him to the dining room. Mr. Jaskolski's wife gasped and nearly dropped the basket of laundry she was carrying. She rushed out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a bowl of water and a washcloth. She tenderly washed the dirt and dried blood off his face._

 _"What happened?" Feliks asked, once Mrs. Jaskolski finished. "Where are the Konicks?"_

 _The Jaskolski's expressions became somber and Feliks felt his heart start to beat frantically with anxiety._

 _"It was horrible." Mr. Jaskolski said, gazing in the direction of where their Jewish neighbors lived. "The Germans rounded up all the Jews three days ago."_

 _"What?" Poland asked in disbelief. "Where are they taking them?"_

 _"I don't know." The man replied._

 _Fear for the Konicks gripped him once more as Poland processed this new information. What had the Germans done with them and the other Jews? While anti-Semitism was not a rare thing in his country, the Polish Jews were still his people and whatever happens to them will also have an effect on himself. His heart clenched at the thought of what had occurred three days ago, picturing the terror on the Konicks faces as the Germans forced their way into their house. His thoughts then drifted to Liora and how scared she and her little brother must have been._

 _One thing was for sure though, Feliks was going to find out what was going on but he had to keep a low profile and avoid any confrontations with the Germans._

… _..._

Hungary listened intently, never taking her eyes off of Poland, who was now fighting to stay awake. The alcohol was beginning to make him delirious.

" _Hic!_ Why them?" Feliks hiccupped, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "They were so- _hic-_ good and-and...innocent!"

Elizabeta jumped when Feliks threw the glass bottle at the wall which shattered on impact. Poland tried to stand up but collapsed before he could take another step. Hungary barely caught him on time. She felt a surge of pity for her friend as she helped Feliks stand. It was late anyway. She would have to help him get upstairs to his bedroom.

There was no way Elizabeta was going to keep doing this. Tomorrow, she will not allow Poland to drink himself into an emotional stupor. She was still going to help him stop the alcohol abuse, but not without difficulty. Feliks's health was going to deteriorate if she left him alone.

" _Hic!_ Ela..." Poland then started giggling like a child, leaning his head on her shoulder. "Your- _hic-_ hair smells soooo good."

Hungary sighed when they reached the stairs. "Thank you. Come on then, you need to lie down."

Poland stumbled a couple times while climbing the steps as Hungary supported him, letting out the occasional giggle or incomprehensible Polish. When they reached the top of the stairs, Feliks began to lose his balance.

"Ugh... _zmęczony_." He mumbled before going limp.

"Feliks, Feliks!" Elizabeta tried to shake him awake but to no avail. Feliks had passed out. Sighing again, she half-dragged Feliks to his room and laid him on his bed, the same way she had the night before. After removing his shoes and making sure he was comfortable, Elizabeta went to the guestroom to prepare for bed. Her friend was going to have another hangover in the morning and she had to be up early to care for him.

 _Poor Feliks._ Hungary thought to herself as she pulled the covers over herself. _Just what had traumatized him so much to resort to this?_

 **AN: I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been so busy with college and focusing on another story. Please accept this new chapter as an apology, since it's all I can offer. In the meantime, please read and review! The reviews give me inspiration!**


	7. Sober

Immolation: Chapter 7

 _"Schneller! Bewegung!"_

 _"Beweg deinen arsch!"_

 _"Komm, sie_ _können_ _schneller arbeitan als das!"_

 _"Arbeite schneller! Faule Bastarde!"_

 _He gritted his teeth and forced himself to dig faster as the guards barked orders and curses at the prisoners. His sore muscles were practically begging for relief but the threat of a beating or being shot prevented him from stopping to even catch his breath. The hollow ache in his stomach was another one of his constant reminders to why stopping was not an option. He and the other prisoners each received only one meal every day after working long hours of hard labor as they were doing so right now._

 _He heard the inmate next to him collapse and one of the guards was on the man in an instant, beating him with his fists and screaming at the man._

 _"You lazy pig! Is that what you call working?!"_

 _He forced himself to ignore what was happening right next to him and didn't stop digging. The guards suddenly commanded them to stop and to get out of the hole._

 _"Get out of there! MOVE!"_

 _He and the other inmates got out of the ditch as quickly as they could in their exhaustion. A truck then came into view and a very familiar stench attacked his nostrils. The smell was everywhere but as the truck got closer, the scent got stronger._

 _His suspicions were confirmed when the truck stopped close to the ditch and began to back up. In the back of the truck was a pile of human corpses, possibly robbed of their lives not too long ago in the 'showers'. He could only watch in silence as the bodies were dumped into the pit. Most of them were women, children, and elderly. Anyone who was not fit to work._

 _He suddenly felt something wet on his shoulder. He already knew what it was before he gazed at it. His wound had opened again and was now bleeding through the bandages under his uniform. He no longer became aware of his surroundings. His vision blurred and he could barely make out the black figure in front of him screaming in German. The figure then removed something from his shoulder and slammed it into the side of his head. He felt pain explode throughout his head and felt the guard kicking his ribs before his vision went dark._

… _..._

Feliks awoke with a sharp gasp and he groaned at the pain in his head. He sat up and blinked away the blur in his vision. He turned to where his alarm clock was, hissing when the sunlight made contact with his eyes and brought more sharp pain to his head. He forced himself off the bed, staggering a little, and closed the curtains before checking his alarm. 9:00. Feliks then noticed two pills, a glass of water, and a note beside it. He lifted the paper and squinted to make out the words through his hangover vision.

 _For the pain. ~ Elizabeta_

Poland sighed and rubbed his temple before taking the pills. Hungary was probably going to restrict his alcohol intake from now on if he knew her as well as he thought. It didn't matter though. No matter how much vodka he drowns himself in, Feliks will still hear them. He will still have flashbacks. And he will see _them._ And _her._

Feliks made his way into the hallway and stopped at the guestroom where Elizabeta was sleeping. He lifted his hand to knock but decided against it. She was likely exhausted from taking care of him in his drunken state so it was possible that she could still be asleep.

He nearly jumped when he felt something brush against his leg. He looked down to see his cat rubbing against him, purring. Feliks gave a slight smile at the beige colored feline.

"You scared me, Ignacy." Poland said, softly as he picked up the cat. In response, Ignacy meowed and pawed at his face.

"Tak, I know. I forgot to feed you last night." Feliks muttered, trying to turn his head away from his cat's claws. He would have to clip them soon. His horse was likely starving as well.

"You better not have scratched the furniture again." Poland warned Ignacy as he carried the cat downstairs. After filling Ignacy's bowl, he went outside to the stable where a brown horse was peeking her head out. The mare whinnied as her rider approached.

"Hey, Róża." Feliks greeted, feeding her an apple he had taken from the kitchen. "Sorry I didn't take you out yesterday. I haven't been myself lately."

Poland stroked the mare's neck before filling her trough with hay and promised to take her out to exercise later. The mare whinnied and stomped her hoof as if to say 'You better take me out'. Normally, Feliks would have laughed but for the past few days, he just couldn't bring himself to genuinely smile. He just patted her neck and went back to the house. He still reeked of alcohol and needed a shower.

Upon thinking the word 'shower', images of a dark, stony room flashed through his mind followed by the corpses from his dream after he had participated in digging their grave. Feliks instantly shook his head at those thoughts. Maybe a bath would be better to clear his head.

Poland tried not to surrender to any unwanted thoughts as he walked into his bathroom and prepared a bath for himself. He tried not to turn around as he undressed, not wanting to get a full view of his scars. But there was no avoiding the numbers on his arm. _**A-2172**_ glared right back at him after removing his shirt as if taunting him. Reminding him that they will never go away, nothing could remove them.

Feliks turned the water off and stepped into the tub, sighing as the warmth engulfed him. As he sank deeper into the water, his eyes suddenly went to the shower faucet. In the back of his mind, he heard people screaming. Feliks submerged his head into the water in an effort to block them out.

 _He watched as a guard wearing a gas mask climbed up a ladder to the building of the showers after a group of people were ordered to undress and go inside. At first, he couldn't comprehend what that man was doing up there until he noticed a black skull with crossbones on a can he was carrying._

 _He could do nothing but stand in agonizing horror as the guard opened a hatch on the roof and dumped the cans contents into the building. The screams followed shortly after once the unsuspecting innocents realized what was happening._

 _He couldn't breathe, and felt his scar start to burn as the people's screams started to silence. He could feel what was being done to them. He could feel their terror, their despair, and the inability to breathe. He was choking on air, he barely acknowledged another inmate pulling him away from the scene, even when it was all silent now, he could still hear the screams echoing in his head._

Feliks's head shot up and he gasped for air, trying to catch his breath. The lukewarm water was proof that he spaced out for a long time. He growled as he buried his face in his hands, suddenly craving a drink. He quickly washed his hair and body before stepping out of the bath to grab a towel. Once he was in his room, Feliks opened one of his drawers to search for something to wear.

While Poland had a lot of outfits, he kept them all in drawers since he had no closet. He had no desire to have one either. Not since 1944.

As Feliks was about to put a shirt on, he heard what sounded like a gasp behind him. Startled, he spun around to see Elizabeta with the door slightly open and her eyes were locked into his figure. Where his scars were exposed.

 _ **Translations:**_

 **German:**

 **Schneller: Faster**

 **Bewegung: Move**

 **Beweg deinen arsch: Move your ass**

 **Komm, sie** **können** **schneller arbeitan als das!: Come on, you can work faster than that!**

 **Arbeite schneller: Work faster**

 **Faule bastarde: Lazy bastards**


	8. Scars

Immolation: Scars

Two pairs of green eyes stared at each other, each of their owners were frozen. Hungary couldn't move the moment she saw the horrendous marks on Poland's back. The scars were obviously from a whip and the color of them showed that they hadn't healed well.

She couldn't help the gasp from escaping her lips at the gruesome sight but when Poland spun around, exposing his front, Hungary felt sick.

The scar that went down his chest to his ribcage made Elizabeta suspect that Feliks had been attacked with a sharp weapon and there were other scars littered across his figure that looked deeper than the ones on his chest and back.

Then she noticed the tattoo. And she was unable to look anywhere else. _**A-2172**_ was branded onto his arm.

"G-Get out! _Do cholery!_ " Feliks snapped, finally regaining his composure. Flushing in embarassment, Elizabeta said a quick apology and closed the door. Her heart was beating frantically in her chest as she hurried downstairs, not noticing Feliks's cat, Ignacy, as she passed by him. Once she was in the sitting room, Elizabeta collapsed onto the couch. Her mind was running a thousand miles per minute, images of her dearest friend's scars flashed before her eyes. But the tattoo...that mark on his arm...

Realization struck her like a slap to the face. Elizabeta didn't want to believe it but Feliks's behavior, the drinking, the sadness that she always sensed...it all made sense now. During the war, Feliks had been in a concentration camp.

How long has Feliks been suffering in silence like this? Elizabeta dreaded to know the answer. She also dreaded the answer to where those scars came from.

Those scars. Various emotions were swirling inside of her. Anger at the creature who hurt Feliks, sadness that he had undoubtedly suffered so much, and guilt for having been on the side of the nation responsible for what happened.

"Ela... _Ela!_ "

Elizabeta flinched and turned to see Feliks standing next to the couch. He wore another long-sleeved shirt and a guilty expression on his face. There was an awkward silence, neither of them knowing what to say. Until Elizabeta said the only thing she knew was true at that moment.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered, her voice shaky with the overwhelming emotions coursing through her. Feliks's eyes flashed and grabbed Elizabeta's hands, pulling her to her feet and held her in a firm embrace. His warmth instantly enveloped her and the smell of his body wash was soothing.

"Don't apologize." Feliks said, reaching a hand up to run through Elizabeta's hair. "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry."

He pulled away and cupped her cheek, wiping something wet from under her eye. "Don't worry about me..."

 _A girl with dark hair looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. He reached up and wiped one from her cheek._

 _"Don't worry about me." He said, smiling gently at the girl in an effort to comfort her. "I'll be fine, Liora."_

Feliks's eyes widened and hastily pulled away from the Hungarian woman. He quickly shook his head to prevent anymore unwanted memories to resurface. He cleared his throat.

"I'm going to make breakfast." He said, turning to the kitchen. "What do you want?"

Elizabeta stood there, a blush on her face from how close their faces had been and never noticing that she had been crying. "Anything is fine."

As Feliks left for the kitchen, Elizabeta wiped at her eyes, only to feel more traitorous tears to escape. The shock had seemed to fade away and the situation had finally sunk in. A soft sob escaped her throat and she clasped a hand over her mouth to prevent anymore unwanted noises as she sank back onto the couch. Her body trembled with the devastating revelation about the most important person in her life.

…...

In the kitchen, Feliks had gathered salami, cheese, bread, and pepper paste to make them into small open-faced sandwiches. He wasn't really a fan of spicy things but these were Elizabeta's favorite. He had been beaten, starved, shot, stabbed, and tortured years ago but the look on Elizabeta's face when he found her in the sitting room with tears streaming down her face had been more painful than any other agony he had experienced in his long existence.

As he cut the sausage, a low rumble in his stomach reminded him that he barely ate anything the day before. But the hunger he felt now was incomparable to having a crust of bread and small bowl of watery soup once a day for a long period of time. It could be best described as a dull, hollow ache that was agonizing enough to drive a person mad from hunger which had happened quite often back then.

He gritted his tenth, forcing the thoughts out of his head, and focused on his task. Once the sandwiches were done, he started brewing a kettle of tea. Feliks called for Elizabeta once he put their plates on the table. He was getting two cups out of one of the cabinets when his friend entered. Neither of them said anything, except for Elizabeta to thank him when he poured her a cup of tea. As they ate, Elizabeta noticed that Feliks had not added any pepper paste to his food, in its place was sour cream.

"I see you still don't like peppers." She commented before taking a sip of her tea. Feliks scoffed.

"I do like them." He replied. "I just don't like yours. I still remember that time I tried your goulash. It felt like the Devil's wrath in my mouth."

Hungary couldn't help laughing as Poland brought up that memory. They had been comparing their goulash recipes and the look on Feliks's face when he tasted her dish had been priceless. He had immediately dashed to the sink, not even bothering to use a cup to rinse his mouth. Whether done intentionally or not, no one could ever make her laugh like Poland could.

When she laughed, Feliks's annoyance seemed to fade at the sound and a ghost of a smile briefly appeared upon his lips. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Like a candle, the life in his eyes flickered out.

"Are you alright?" He suddenly asked. Elizabeta blinked, embarrassment coating her cheeks for staring.

" _Igen..._ I just...have so many questions." She said, holding her temple. "But I am not sure if I can handle the answers."

Feliks finished the last bite of his food and reached for his cup. He took a long sip before finally speaking. "Alright, what are a few things that you want to know?"

Elizabeta was a bit surprised that he was willing to open up, if only a little without the influence of alcohol. It was a start, at least.

"That scar, the one on your chest..." Elizabeta made a gesture signaling a diagonal line on her upper body. "Where did that come from?"

"Bayonet." Feliks said, blankly.

"And your back?" She felt that she knew the answer but it felt necessary to ask.

"Whip." He replied, confirming her suspicions.

Elizabeta swallowed before asking her final question. "What about...those other scars. The ones on your chest and stomach."

The silence that followed was nearly deafening and Feliks went still. After what felt like an eternity, he stood up and picked up his plate before walking over to where Elizabeta was seated and picked up her plate as well.

"I have to take Róża out, she's been restless all morning." Feliks said with no emotion before taking the plates to the kitchen but stopped mid-way without turning around. "I'll be back in about an hour so just...do whatever you want while I'm gone."

"...alright." Elizabeta said, softly. She couldn't help feeling a little hurt that Feliks shut her out again but knew from his reaction that the scars on his front were a particularly sensitive topic. Six scars that looked like stab wounds, some looking deeper than the others. When she heard Feliks leave the house, Elizabeta squeezed her eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling and buried her face in her hands.

 _What am I supposed to do?_ She wondered, desperately.

 **AN: I apologize for the long wait. College took up the majority of my time but at least it's over now. I'll try to update faster from now on. Please don't forget to review, it gives me inspiration!**

 **Polish:**

 _ **Do Cholery: Damn it!**_


End file.
